A Lesson in Love
by humanveil
Summary: A series of related, semi-related, and unrelated Cherik oneshots set in a modern day high school AU. Powered!AU
1. Saviour

**A/N; Hello again! The little fics in this series will mostly be based off of this tumblr post, as well as anything else I want to add. They will mostly be unrelated/semi-related one shots all based in the same AU. I think they'll have powers in all of them but if they don't I'll let you know! Unbetaed. Sorry for any mistakes.**

 **Hope you like it! Don't forget to R &R.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

* * *

Erik checked the old, scruffy watch resting against his wrist and sighed. It was only ten minutes into last period, which meant at least a few people were still dawdling in the hallways.

He leant against the cool wall of the bathroom, deliberately ignoring the germs and grime that was undoubtedly rubbing off onto his shirt. He didn't want to get caught skipping class again, not after what Edie had done last time.

He could still go to class if he wanted to, Mr Udell was used to him being late – expected him to be, really. Yet sitting in a room with complete idiots and listening to a teacher, who so obviously did not like him, explain things his father had taught him _years_ ago didn't sound particularly fun to the teenage mutant. So, he waited, foot tapping impatiently, until enough time had passed for him to slip from the school gates unseen.

He made his way from the dirty bathroom, letting the door slam shut with a loud _bang_ , and walked in the direction of his locker to grab a few things before he went. He was about to open the door of his locker when he heard the muffled cry for help, followed by the distinct feeling of metal vibrating as a hand banged against it.

Following the feeling, Erik made his way further down the hall, stopping abruptly when he spotted the bright yellow _mutant_ _freak_ written in paint across one of the grey lockers. Eyes narrowed, he tore the door away with a clench of his fist, uncaring about the loud bang it made as it hit the row of lockers behind him.

A kid his age had come tumbling out and Erik had stuck his arm out, curling around the boy's waist and lifting him slightly to make sure he didn't fall. Head tilted to the side, Erik gave the kid a once over, recognising him as the know-it-all telepath he shared a few classes with. Charlie, or something.

Making sure the other boy could stand on his own, Erik let his arm drop back to his side and took a few steps back. "Are you okay?" he inquired, noticing the faint blush on the other kid's cheeks as he looked up at him.

"Yes," the telepath said, grinning. "Yes, just fine. Thank you, for that."

Erik raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," the boy repeated. "Thanks to you."

Erik couldn't help but notice how blue the kid's eyes were. Or how red his lips were as they formed perfectly accented words.

The kid held his hand out in the small space between them, "I'm Charles. Charles Xavier."

Not Charlie, then. Erik nodded, taking the offered hand and holding it a little longer than necessary. "Eri—"

"—K Lehnsherr. Yeah, I know. You've got a rep."

"Right," Erik mumbled, hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Hopefully it's not all bad."

Charles beamed at him again, and Erik really couldn't remember anyone ever looking at him like that. "Maybe to some people," was the truthful reply. "Not to me."

"Good," Erik said, lips lifting in a slight smile. "Uh, how long were you in there?"

"Oh," Charles murmured, looking behind him. "About half an hour."

Erik looked at him surprised, "Who put you in there?"

A sigh, "A couple of guys off the football team."

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm rather small," Charles said, laughing awkwardly. "It's easy for them to overpower me."

"No, I mean," Erik muttered, hesitating. "Aren't you the telepath?"

Charles' face heated again, "Well, yes."

"Wouldn't it be easy to just…" Erik made a hand gesture near his forehead, hoping Charles would get the hint.

"Well, yes," Charles said, again. "It's just—I can get in a lot of trouble—and I'd really rather not have to— and people don't like telepaths as it is— "

"Fuck 'em," Erik said simply. "Who cares? Do what you need to to save your own ass."

Charles went quiet for a moment, staring at Erik with an odd look on his face before laughing again. "Like you?" he asked, pointing to the mangled bit of metal in the hall.

Erik grinned, teeth on display, "Yes, like me."

"And where does that get you?" Charles replied, and there was a bit of playfulness in his tone.

"Not shoved in my own locker."

Charles giggled, and Erik couldn't help but think of how cute the sound was.

Charles looked behind him at his exposed locker again and then back towards Erik. "Do you mind maybe fixing my door?"

"Oh, yeah," Erik said, fingers clasping around Charles' wrist so he could pull the kid out of the way. Once Charles was safely next to him, he waved his hand a bit, smiling softly as the comforting feeling of metal washed over him. The door reattached to Charles' locker just fine, but the bright yellow tag could still be seen.

"Unfortunately my power can't fix that," Erik muttered, angrily. "The janitors usually clean them off overnight though. I'm pretty sure one of them is a mutant."

"It's okay," Charles reassured him. "I'm used to it. My old school was much the same."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Erik pointed out, turning towards him once more.

"No, you're right," Charles smiled sadly. "But I still am." He went quiet again, eyes trailing over Erik's form. "Do you want to go get coffee? Or ice-cream? I mean, as a tank you, for, you know, saving me?"

Erik smirked and leant against the row of lockers, "A goody-two-shoes like you skipping class? I never would have thought."

"There's no point in going now, is there? I've already pissed half the class," Charles replied. "Besides, Udell's a mutant-hating moron who can't teach anything, so I'm not really missing out."

Erik chuckled, "Very true."

"Will you come?" Charles asked again, eyes lit in excitement.

Erik sighed, "You're buying."


	2. Company

**a/n: based on the prompt: "you started sitting by me at lunch because i'm alone at my table but we never talk to each other."**

On Erik's first day at his new school, a couple of kids had come up to where he'd been eating in the cafeteria and sat down. They'd continued to talk themselves up, telling him how they were part of the "cool" group, and that joining them wold inevitably make him popular.

Then they'd mentioned how joining them would keep the _mutant scum_ away from him.

Erik had smiled, rather vindictively, and clenched his hand into a fist, watching with satisfaction as he manipulated the metal in their seat to pull away from the table. Eyes alight with anger, he'd told them to fuck off.

They had, and soon enough, everyone had learnt that it was easier to just leave him alone.

It had been two years since that incident, and he'd sat by himself, tucked comfortably with his back against the wall at his corner table every day.

That was why Erik thinks he's imagining things when he hears the scrape of metal against the dirty cafeteria floor, followed by the distinct sound of someone sitting in the seat across from him.

Confused and slightly annoyed, Erik lifts his eyes from the textbook he'd been reading to look at his new companion. Taking in the soft looking brown hair, pale skin, and clothes that managed to make the already small kid look even more out of place, Erik recognises him as the new kid. They share a few classes together, but Erik only remembers him because he recalls thinking how weird it was to transfer schools in your senior year.

The kid – Charles, his mind supplies – looks back at him quickly, his blue eyes shining brightly as he flashes a small smile before looking down again.

Erik doesn't respond, just stares a little longer before shaking his head and returning to his own home packed meal. He knows he should tell the kid to piss off, but Charles is quiet, timid. He shouldn't be too much trouble, and even if he is, Erik would easily be able to win in a fight.

Sighing, he flips through his physics textbook, telling himself that he'll only let Charles sit with him this one time, just until the other boy finds his own group of friends to hang around with.

cxe

Despite his intentions, _this one time_ turns into every day.

Charles had returned the next lunch, smiling at him once more before sitting down and minding his own business. Erik hadn't been sure what to say, or think, and by the time he'd realised that he _should_ have told Charles to leave him alone, half of lunch had already passed and Erik believed he'd left it too late to say anything.

He'd left ten minutes before lunch had ended, cursing himself for smiling back at Charles when the younger boy had looked up questioningly, sinful red lips turned up in a smile. Brows furrowed, Erik had shook his head as he left the packed room, promising himself he'd say something the following day.

cxe

Except that next day Erik's English teacher had kept him behind to discuss a few things, and by the time he'd made it to the cafeteria, Charles was already sitting at his table, personal belongings sprawled across what Erik was starting to think of as Charles' side of the table.

As was their routine, Charles had looked up at him when he sat down, smiled in acknowledgement, and returned to whatever textbook he'd been reading.

Erik hadn't had the heart to say anything.

cxe

Eventually, Erik realises that Charles hasn't really made any friends, and that _this one time_ is no longer a possibility, that Charles would turn up at his table the next lunch, and the one after that, and so forth. Despite himself, Erik isn't annoyed, not like he thought he would be.

He knows that Charles isn't exactly popular. He's the opposite, really, an easy target for teenage bigotry. He's heard what some people call out to him, seen what they deface his locker with. It makes him angry, makes his blood boil, because the traits everybody seems to despise Charles for are incredibly similar to his own. He's aware that they would do to him what they do to Charles if Erik didn't stand up for himself the way he does.

For some reason he can't explain, it makes him want to protect the kid. And he does, subtly.

He glares daggers at anyone who tries to pick on him in their shared classes, uses his power to dissemble the expansive bike of the jock that used pink spray paint to cover Charles' locker with the word twink. And one time, when Charles had shown up to lunch with a black eye, he'd left early, talked to a few acquaintances to find the guy that had done it, and gave him a matching bruise.

He wasn't sure if Charles knew of his actions, but if he did, the other boy hadn't said anything about it.

cxe

It goes on for about a month before curiosity gets the better of Erik and he can't help but ask; "What are you doing?"

Charles looks up at him, face showing mild shock at being addressed. "Eating my lunch?" he replies, insecurity ensuring his reply sounds more like a question than an answer.

Erik thinks he can hear fear in the other boy's accented voice – slight, but still there; almost as if he's afraid of being rejected – but he ignores it. "Why?"

Charles tilts his head to the side, a tiny smile gracing his features as his eyes search Erik's face before quietly replying, "I'm hungry."

Erik sighs, growing increasingly annoyed at the kid's obviously false obliviousness. "Not what I meant," he mutters, bringing a hand to run through his unkempt hair. "Why _here_? At this table, with me?"

"Because," Charles shrugs, chewing mindlessly on a bit of apple. "Everywhere else is full, and I haven't any friends to sit with."

"But we never talk."

"We're talking right now."

" _Charles._ "

The pale boy laughs quietly and rests his chin atop his hand, blue eyes gazing into Erik's own icy ones. "Mute company is better than no company at all. Besides," he says softly, lips stretched into a grin. "Sitting with you scares people into leaving me alone."

Sighing, Erik runs a hand through his hair again. "Yeah, okay," he mumbles awkwardly. "'suppose you can stay."

"Brilliant," Charles responds, eyes never leaving Erik's face. "Do you suppose we can maybe start conversing like normal people, too?"

"I guess, yeah," Erik replies, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.


	3. Tranquillity

**xma trailer made me sad so i did this...**

Erik groaned as he heard another sigh come from the direction of his desk, looking up, his eyes trailed over Charles' stressed form.

His boyfriend's hair was messy, like he'd been pulling at it every now and then, and there was paper and empty coffee cups skittered around his desk. They had a physics test the next day, and while Erik was unconcerned, Charles had been stressing over it for a while. He'd mentioned it to Edie, who had immediately suggested the two of them study together, and now Erik was stuck with _this._

It's not that he minded studying with Charles - he actually enjoyed watching the other boy work - but it was hard to sleep when there was a stressed student muttering to himself in the corner of your bedroom.

He groaned again, louder this time, and sat up when Charles finally turned to look at him.

"Am I keeping you up?" he asked quietly, bottom lip between his teeth. "I'm sorry, Erik, I just–"

"Stop studying."

"You know I can't."

"Sure you can."

"I need a good mark."

"And you'll get one," Erik said, smiling. "You always do. And even if you don't, it won't matter."

"Yes it will."

"Charles."

"Erik."

"Stop studying and come to bed."

"But—"

"It's almost one in the morning. You'll do better if you sleep."

"I need to learn the—"

"If you don't already know it, you're not going to learn it before the test," Erik murmured, pulling back the cover and patting the spot next to him. "My mother finally agrees to let you sleep over, and you won't even get into bed with me."

"Erik—"

"I'll force you."

"You can't force me to sleep, Erik."

"Wanna bet?"

Charles cocked an eyebrow at him, arms folding across his chest. "I'm the telepath, darling. I'm the one who can force people to do things."

"So force Moran to give you full marks."

"You know I can't," Charles scolded, but Erik could see his smile in the dim lamp light.

"Or, search my brain for the answer if you don't know it."

"You're going to get me into trouble."

"If I see you freaking out I'm going to project the answers so hard you won't be able to ignore them. If anyone finds out you can blame me."

" _Erik_ ," Charles whined, hands rubbing at his tired eyes. "Please stop."

"Please come to bed," Erik whispered, his voice barely carrying across the room. He reached his arms out, like a child who wanted to be lifted, and pouted in an attempt to coax Charles towards him. "Pleeeease, liebling."

Charles' eyes moved back and forth between the open textbook and his boyfriend, contemplating. He knew he could cram some more, but the look of Erik, shirtless with his arms open, hair rumpled and eyes clouded with the need to sleep, was too good to pass. He sighed and stood up.

It was only a few steps until he reached the bed, and a small moan left his mouth as he lied down, the warmth of Erik and the softness of his bed soothing the ache of his tired body.

Erik wrapped his arms around him securely, lips pressing against his forehead softly, "You'll be fine, baby."

He hummed in response, face burrowing into the cook of the other boy's neck. "Play with my hair," he mumbled, lips wetting Erik's warm skin as their legs intertwined.

"Anything else, princess?" Erik asked, voice dripping with sarcasm as one hand reached upwards to run fingers through his soft locks.

"Yeah, turn the light off." Erik rolled his eyes at the smile he could feel against his skin, but still used his power to turn the lamp off, diminishing any light left in the room.

Relaxing into the softness of his mattress, the feel of Charles' warm body against his own as the sound of their synchronised breathing filled the air, he fell asleep easily.


	4. Rivalry

"Oh, Moira, I would love to go with you, I really would, but I've already got a date," Charles says, grabbing a book from his locker.

"Oh… With who?"

Charles feels a wave of guilt crash over him at the disappointed reply, and he sighs. He needs to think of a way to get out of this without hurting her feelings, and quickly. He sifts through a list of names in his head, eyes searching the crowded hallway as he tries desperately to think of someone who will go along with his excuse. He's about to cave and tell her the truth when he sees a presence enter the hall, and without giving it much thought – because it's going to end badly either way, he knows – he says simply, "Erik Lehnsherr."

Moira gapes, apparently too shocked to move, and he takes the momentary silence to solidify his excuse.

 _Hello, Eri—_

 _Get the fuCK OU—_

 _I know, I know. Stay out of your head. Terribly sorry, but if you go along with what I'm about to do, I'll flunk the next debate and you can take out the season._

He can see Erik glaring at him – and boy, if looks could kill; he'd already be cold and needn't have to worry about the mess he's getting himself in to. He hears Erik's curious _what are you about to do_ in his head as the other boy comes into reaching distance, and rather than replying, he reaches a hand out and pulls him so they're standing side by side.

Erik's just about to open his mouth to say something when Moira finally emerges from her trance, wide eyes flicking between the two teenage boys, " _You_ and _Erik Lehnsherr_ are going to the Valentine's Day dance? _Together?"_

Charles tightens his grip on Erik's forearm in an attempt to halt the outburst he can see simmering in his eyes, and smiles at Moira, nodding. "Yes."

"But… I thought you didn't like each other."

"We don't," Erik answers, mouth set in a thin line.

Moira's face scrunches in confusion, and Charles feels so sorry for her; he'd rather not drag her into the mess that was the relationship between him and Erik. "Then…why are you going to a Valentine's dance together if you don't like each other?"

 _I'd like an answer to that, too, Xavier,_ comes Erik's voice in his head, and Charles smothers an urge to punch whoever taught him how to project so well.

"It's, um," he stumbles for a moment, eyes looking towards Erik in a _do you think you could help a little_ way, but the other boy just stares at him, patiently waiting for his answer.

 _Bastard_ , he projects, the sadistic amusement radiating from the other boy not going unnoticed.

"It's an experiment," he finally mumbles, "For a bet."

He curses himself for his own stupidity as Erik's lips stretch into a smirk.

Moira, if at all possible, looks even more confused. Charles doesn't blame her – the situation makes absolutely no sense, he knows – but he does wish she'd stop gawking at them. She's about to say something again when the bell signalling the beginning of their next class sounds and cuts her off.

He flashes her another charming smile before closing his locker. "So sorry, dear. Seems we've got to go," he says, eyes flashing towards Erik. "Talk later," he nods and turns around before she has a chance to reply, pulling Erik with him while he silently thanks the heavens that Moira isn't in any of his classes that day.

When they're far enough away that Moira won't be able to see or hear them, Erik yanks his arm out of Charles' grasp and goes back to glaring. " _What_ the fuck was that?"

Charles sighs, "Sorry."

"I don't want to go to the dance with you."

 _The feeling's mutual,_ Charles thinks, but doesn't project. "I know," he mutters as they walk through the door of their shared AP English class, taking their assigned seats at the back. Charles never understood why their teacher had placed them next to each other; all they ever did was fight.

"You better be serious about flunking the debate," Erik tells him before pulling out a worn notebook.

"I am, but only if you come."

"How long do we have to stay?"

Charles shrugs, "Long enough to be believable." He finishes pulling out the things needed for the lesson and grabs a spare black pen, extending it towards the other mutant, "Need one?"

Erik accepts it silently, adverting his eyes to a new page of his notebook as their teacher walks in. He'd run out of pens the night before and hadn't had a chance to replenish his bag yet.

 _Keep it_ , Charles projects as the class falls silent, smiling at the glare he gets in return.

They stay silent for the first forty minutes of the lesson, listening idly as their teacher went on about Macbeth's tragic ambition. Neither of them had written anything down the entire time, the teacher's ramblings things you could find easily with a quick google search. If he was truthful, Charles hadn't been listening for the past fifteen minutes or so, instead he'd been staring, transfixed, as Erik drew oddly beautiful swirling patterns in the margin of his book.

 _That's why you always run out of pens_ , he projects, noticing the other boy tense as the comment.

 _What have I told you about getting inside my head?_

 _Not to do it._

 _So why do you insist on doing it?_

 _This is boring._

 _It's always boring. Fisher has no clue what he's talking about._

 _Exactly. At least talking to you is mentally stimulating._

 _We don't talk, Xavier. We argue._

 _Yes, well,_ Charles pauses, sighing quietly. _I don't particularly feel like getting into a debate on mutant relationships with humans, so forgive me if I'd rather have a conversation._

 _A conversation about what?_ Erik asks, putting his pen down and shifting in his seat.

 _What time shall I pick you up on Saturday?_

 _Why do you assume you're picking me up?_

 _Do we really have to turn_ _ **this**_ _into a debate?_

Charles sees Erik roll his eyes before replying, _Come at five. No sooner._

 _Address?_

Erik picks up a pen again and scrawls a number and street name in the corner of his notebook page before ripping it off and passing it towards Charles. _Don't expect me to be dressed fancy._

 _Of course not. I guess I'll see you then._

Erik lifts his eyebrows at him, kind of like he's making a _no shit, Sherlock_ face, and Charles rolls his eyes, tuning back in on their teacher's monotone rambling.

 **xxx**

Charles pulls up outside of Erik's home at exactly 4:45 PM on Saturday, palms sweaty as he shuts the engine off and looks out the windshield. The house is small compared to others on the street, but there's a warm sort of homely atmosphere that makes it easier for Charles to get out of the car and knock on the door.

He knows he's a little earlier than intended, but he hadn't been sure how long it would take to drive from his house to Erik's, and he supposed being early was better than being late. He doesn't know why he's so nervous. It's not like he and Erik are friends; if anything, he'd say Erik was his rival. Kind of. In an academic, opinion-y type of way. He found their relationship status very confusing at times.

He suspects most people don't become breathless when their _rival_ starts arguing an opposing opinion, simply because the passion in their eyes is too beautiful to even begin to describe.

Whatever they were, he knows he shouldn't be ready to throw up at the possibility of Erik's mother opening the door rather than Erik himself.

Nevertheless, he makes sure there's a charming smile on his face when he knocks. He checks his outfit – formfitting dark blue jeans with a plain white button down – and waits for someone to answer the door. It's not long until a women, presumably middle aged, appears in front of him, a warm, welcoming smile on her face.

"Hello," he says, voice smooth and ridiculously more British due to his nerves. For some reason, he feels the need to make a good impression with this woman. Sticking a hand out for her to take hold of, he introduces himself. "Charles Xavier, how do you do?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him, but still smiles, and Charles isn't sure if he's made some type of mistake or not. "Edie Lehnsherr," she replies, and Charles notices her accent is much thicker than Erik's. "It's nice to finally put a face to the name," she says, dropping his hand.

"Erik talks about me?" he asks, genuinely surprised.

Edie grins, "Oh, yes. All the time."

He can feel the butterflies exploding in his stomach, his eyes widening. He can't imagine what Erik's mother thinks of him based from Erik's stories. "Hopefully not all bad things," he says, eyes moving nervously around the front yard. "I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression, Mrs. Lehnsherr."

Edie laughs at him then, a rich sound, and Charles relaxes a little bit. "Not at all, dear. And please, none of this formal business. Call me Edie."

There's something inherently _nice_ about this woman, and Charles can't help but like her. The grin he gives her is real when he corrects himself, "Edie, then."

"And don't worry; between you and me," she murmurs, leaning in. "I think he likes you a little bit."

Charles' cheeks burn red, and he's about to stutter out a response when Erik suddenly appears at the door, an annoyed furrow on his brow as he mutters quickly in German, eyes locked with his mother's. He doesn't understand any of it, just a _mamma_ here or there, but he watches their expressions, watches as Edie rolls her eyes when he finally stops talking. Watches her turn to him, send him a knowing look before looking his outfit over and pointing to his bare arms; Charles presumes she's scolding him for not having a jacket over his black polo.

His presumptions are confirmed when Erik sighs and says, "It's not that cold."

"I don't care. If you get sick—"

"I'm not going to get _sick_."

"Go get a jacket."

" _Mamma._ "

"Go."

Charles can't contain a small giggle as Erik rolls his eyes and dutifully goes to get a jacket, Edie watching on with a smug smile.

"I never thought I'd see the day where Erik Lehnsherr listened to the person scolding him," he mentions when Erik disappears into the home.

"That's my boy," Edie responds, laughing. "I'm happy as long as he stays out of trouble and listens to me."

Charles sees the fond expression on her face as she says it, can feel the love radiating from her mind as Edie talks about her son, and feels a type of envy coil in the pit of his stomach. His relationship with his own mother would be non-existent if they didn't argue.

He's saved from replying when Erik reappears, worn leather jacket on, and Edie smiles, pleased.

"You look nice, liebling," Edie tells him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Charles thinks he spots a blush on Erik's cheeks as he mumbles a thank you.

"And you, too, dear," she says, turning back towards Charles. "Quite handsome, really. I think Erik and I have a similar taste in men—"

"Bye, Mamma, see you later," Erik's voice cuts off the rest of the sentence as he walks closer to Charles and grabs his arm, all but dragging him to the car.

"It was lovely to meet you!" he calls out, looking behind him to grin at Edie, who laughs and waves them off.

Erik scowls and uses his mutation of take the car keys from Charles before moving towards the driver's seat.

"What makes you think you're driving?"

"You almost crashed the van on the way to the last debate. I'm not risking it."

The telepath rolls his eyes but still gets into the passenger's seat, a smile on his face. He waits until they've turned out of Erik's street before facing the other boy. "Mamma, huh?"

"Fuck off."

Charles chuckles, not disheartened in the slightest, "It's cute." He sees Erik shoot him a glare, "There's nothing wrong with being a mamma's boy."

"I'm not—"

"Yeah you are," Charles cuts him off. "You're close, it's nice."

Erik sighs and stops at a red light, "I take it you and your mother don't get along."

"Ah, no, not really," Charles shrugs. "No one was all that pleased about the telepathy. I think I used to intentionally give people headaches when I didn't get my way."

Erik's doesn't reply for a while, and Charles thinks their attempt at a conversation is over until Erik parks the car at the venue and turns to him, smiling softly. "The silverware would rattle when I cried. I think I almost stabbed my babysitter once."

Charles gets out of the car, laughing at the picture of a baby Erik shooting spoons at people he didn't like. "I could see you doing that now."

"Don't tempt me, Charles," Erik jokes, floating his keys towards him. "A key isn't that far from a knife."

He makes sure the car is locked before joining Erik and walking towards the doors of the hall, sighing as he feels the stares of their classmates. "I didn't think people would stare this much."

Erik shrugs, "Ignore them, we only have to stay for a little bit."

"Or, we might end up having fun and staying the whole night."

"Not a chance, Xavier, I don't do dances."

"I bet you're secretly a good dancer."

"No."

"I bet Edie gave you lessons when you were younger."

There's a small flush creeping up the back of Erik's neck, just above the collar of his jacket, and Charles smiles. He's probably right.

"Piss off."

"You're getting defensive, which means I'm right."

"I'm not defensive."

"Yep," Charles says, the _p_ making a popping sound.

"Don't call my mother Edie."

"She said I could."

"I don't care."

Charles rolls his eyes, "Are you sure the two of you are related? She's so much nicer."

Erik glares at him again, and _maybe_ that hadn't been the right thing to say, but Charles juts lifts his shoulder in a shrug and pushes the hall's door open, letting Erik enter ahead of him.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Erik mutters, grimacing as he looks around the room. He knew it was Valentine's Day, but _fuck_ , that wasn't an excuse to cover ninety percent of the walls in pick, tacky heart decorations, separated by what he thought was red tinsel.

"That is such a waste of helium," Charles states, eyes staring at heart shaped balloons hovering near the roof.

Turning to look, Erik groans. "Right, I'm leaving," he says, turning towards the door.

Charles quickly grabs hold of his arm and pull him closer, "No, you're not."

"Charles."

"I know it's…tacky—"

"It's a fucking assault to the eyes."

"Just stay for a little bit," Charles begs him. "Please. I don't want to hurt Moira."

"Last I checked, lying to someone wasn't the best way to do that."

"Simply saying no would have been worse."

"Whatever," Erik mumbles, moving towards a back corner of the large room. "It's not so pink back here."

Charles follows, shaking his head. "Who the hell picks the decorations for these things?"

"Pretty sure there's a committee."

"Why would someone spend their free time in a committee for this?"

"People say the same thing about debating," Erik points out, sitting down as a pink covered table.

Charles sits next to him, eyes scanning the room. "Yeah, but at least debatin—is that fucking _mistletoe_?"

Erik looks to where Charles is pointing and snorts; there is indeed a plastic branch of mistletoe taped to a wall. "Must've had to use Christmas decorations, as well. There's tinsel over there."

"Oh God," Charles mutters, covering his smile with his hand and turning to Erik. "I promise we won't stay too long."

They sit together quietly for a minute, and although the silence is slightly awkward, it isn't as uncomfortable as they initially thought it would be.

"Do you think we're underdressed?" Erik asks suddenly, smirking as he points to the door.

Charles looks, stifling a laugh as he sees what Erik's pointing at. A couple has just walked into the room and, while Charles thinks they look nice, he also thinks the tuxedo and wedding-like dress may have been a _little_ over the top for the dance.

"I don't want to be rude," he says once his laughter subsides, his gaze trailing over the girl's white, lacy dress. "But, _wow._ I wish we got the memo."

Erik huffs a laugh, "Mmm, I've got that exact dress in my closet. I've been waiting to wear it out for a while now."

"It's a pity you didn't. The white would look lovely against your skin."

"Topped off with red lipstick, I think I would have been best dressed."

"Mm, hair slicked back."

"What," Erik says, running a hand through his hair so it falls in front of his face, silver-y blue eyes peeking through the auburn strands. "You don't like the messy look?"

"I think you look lovely, darling," Charles replies, blushing when he realises he's _flirting with Erik Lehnsherr_. "But maybe not with the dr—"

"Oh my God, you two actually came together!"

Charles' head snaps sideways to look at the intruder, surprised. "Moira," he says, standing up to kiss her cheek. He sees Erik's playful smile morph into a look of indifference and sighs internally. They were going so well. "You look lovely, as always."

"So do you, Charles," Moira responds, blushing. She looks at Erik behind him, an air of awkwardness about her. "You too, Erik."

Erik doesn't reply, just purses his lips and nods.

 _Don't be rude,_ Charles projects. _She's being nice._

 _I said I'd come with you, I didn't say I'd converse with your friends._

Charles sends him a pointed look and Erik rolls his eyes, sighing as he stands up. "I like your hair," he says to Moira, "Did you get it done professionally?"

Charles sends him the equivalent of being jabbed by an elbow, and Erik smirks.

 _What?_

 _Don't be patronising._

 _I'm not. Her hair looks nice._

Moira's smile falters for a second, but she still mumbles a _thanks_ before looking away awkwardly. "Umm, I hope you have fun, Charles. My date is over there," she says, pointing to some kid Charles doesn't know. "See you later."

"Have a lovely night, my dear," he smiles, waving as she walks away. He waits until she's out of earshot before turning to Erik again, "You're a dick."

"Nothing you didn't already know," Erik tells him, and Charles wants to punch the smug look off his face.

 **xxx**

Erik lasts a full forty minutes before finally groaning and standing up, irritated. "I can't do this anymore," he says, turning to Charles. "I'm going to kill the next person who pushes their significant other up against a wall."

"At least you didn't see a guy getting a blow job in the bathroom."

Erik just shakes his head, "I need air, you coming?"

Charles hides his mild shock at the invitation, but nods and follows him out of the crowded room. He sighs in relief when the fresh air hits him, only just realising how stuffy it had been inside.

"I don't like crowds," Erik mutters, walking away from the entrance and standing against the wall, his back pressed against the cool brick.

"Depends on the crowd," Charles says, wrapping his arms around himself as the cold air hits him. "But that was definitely irritating."

They're not the only people outside, but, as far as Charles can see, they are the only ones not going at it. He can see at least three other couples in compromising positions.

"Does that mean we don't have to go back in?" he asks, pulling a metal cigarette holder out of his pocket. "Want my jacket?" he asks, inclining his head towards Charles' folded arms.

"It's fine," he replies, watching on as Erik places a cig to his mouth and lights it. "Does your mother know you smoke?"

"I don't know," Erik answers truthfully. "Maybe. Probably. She usually always knows what I get up to."

"Would she care?"

"I only have one every now and then," Erik shrugs, blowing a puff of smoke into the air away from Charles. "Don't mention it to her, in case she doesn't know."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Mum's really good with my _rebellion_ ," he makes quote motions with his hands, and Charles grins. "She just tells me to not get into anything I can't get myself out of."

"Really?"

Erik nods, taking another drag. "That be being said, she'll kick my ass if I fuck up too much."

Charles laughs – because isn't _that_ a vision to think about – "I'm surprised you're not always walking around with bruises, then."

"Funny," he deadpans, chucking the cig on the ground, his boot squashing it into the dirt.

"I try."

Erik looks at him and pushes him away from the remnants of smoke, eyes trailing down to his folded arms again. "You're cold," he points out. "Take my jacket."

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but Erik is already pulling the black leather away from him, and any objections are cut off when he sees the smooth, caramel skin of Erik's arms, the teasing slither of his stomach as his polo rides up.

Erik shoots him a knowing smirk when he finally grabs the jacket, blushing. "Like what you see, Charles?"

Charles doesn't really know how to reply; they've been _kind of_ flirting all night, Edie's words in the back of his head the entire time. There are butterflies in his stomach now, because, truth be told, he's _always_ liked what he saw. Despite some of their differences, he'd always thought he and Erik _could_ get along well, if only they tried.

Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Charles decides to just be honest. It's Valentine's Day and they're at a dance _as a date_ and he's seen too many people kissing to not want to _at least_ try and get somewhere with the other boy. "Yes," he finally answers, voice low in the open area. "Quite a bit, actually."

Erik raises his eyebrows at him, almost as if he hadn't expected Charles to reply so openly. "Well then," he says, trying to compose himself as he moves closer to Charles. "Perhaps there are _other_ ways to warm you up."

Charles stares at him for a minute, unmoving, and then, suddenly, he starts giggling, bringing his hand to his mouth to stifle the laughter.

Erik scowls, " _What?"_

"Sorry, sorry," Charles says between giggles. "Terribly sorry, darling. I, it's just—I can't believe _you_ just said that."

Erik continues to scowl, arms crossing over his chest. "Forget it, then," he mumbles, and Charles _swears_ his ears have turned red.

"No, no, no," he says quickly, biting his lip to stop the laughter. "It's cute, endearing, really, I didn't mean to offend. It's just, I don't know, you're so," he makes a flow-y hand movement, unsure of what he means by it, and continues. "And you just—it sounds like something I would say, and I'm terrible at this."

Erik looks away and steps back, shrugging. "Forget it," he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.

Charles shakes his head, still smiling, "What if I don't want to?"

Erik just looks at him, almost confused, and Charles eventually just moves forward, one arm wrapping around Erik's waist while the other holds the jacket still. Erik comes to him easily, breath coming in short, erratic puffs as he looks down at the telepath.

"Really?"

Charles nods, "Really."

"But w-"

"Shut up and kiss me, Erik."

Erik doesn't need to be told twice; within seconds his lips are against Charles', gentle and tentative as the other boy pulls him closer, their bodies flush against each other. Erik wraps his arms around the smaller boy's waist, hands resting just above the small of his back, and runs his tongue against his bottom lip, coaxing Charles to open his mouth. Charles does, and Erik takes the opportunity to run his tongue against the other's, tasting the remnants of whatever flavoured juice they'd been drinking and something else he'd have to describe as distinctly _Charles_.

They pull back shortly after, both of them needing air, and Charles smiles, burrowing his head in Erik's shoulder. "I don't want to do this where people can see."

"What do you want to do?"

"Use my car?"

Erik groans quietly, nose buried in Charles' hair. "It's too far away, let's just use this person's."

Charles moves his head to see the car in question, parked only a few meters away, and laughs. "I'm not breaking into a car just to make out with you."

"My mutation makes it _really_ easy," Erik says, smirking.

"Erik."

" _Fine_ ," he mumbles, sighing. He moves out of their embrace and takes hold of Charles' hand, "Come on then."

Charles grins down at the linked hands, following Erik as they stumble towards his car. His free hand digs for his keys but he stops when Erik opens the door without them, a cocky smirk on his face. Charles gets into the back seat first, discarding Erik's jacket on the car floor while he lies on his back, watching as Erik fumbles to get on top of him while using his mutation to pull the door shut. It's crowded and uncomfortable and there's a seatbelt plug digging into the flesh of his back, but the adrenaline running through him sends a shiver of excitement through his body and he lifts his head, waiting for another kiss.

Erik's lips are on his in an instant, tongue running against the roof of his mouth, and Charles moans quietly, hands moving to rest against Erik's back. The only light in the car comes from the darkening sky outside, and Erik's body is a range of shadows and solid objects as he leaves kisses down his jaw, teeth nipping at his neck. He's getting hard embarrassingly fast, but he can't bring himself to care, too caught up in the feeling of Erik's body atop of his.

His hands slide under the cloth of Erik's polo, and he marvels at the way the other mutant's heated skin feels beneath his hands. He slides them up his back, down his sides and across the defined muscle of his stomach. "Off," he whispers against Erik's lip, eyes wide as he watches Erik lean back and quickly pull the shirt from him.

His lips makes a quick return to Charles' skin, fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, "May I?"

Charles nods eagerly, letting a pleased sigh leave his mouth as Erik's lips follow the movement of his fingers, leaving a string of stinging marks across his torso. His hips buck unintentionally and he lets out a long, low moan as his erection makes contact with Erik's thigh. For some reason, he's embarrassed, and he opens his mouth to say something – apologise, probably – but Erik just shushes him, lips moving back to his mouth. Erik's hands find the waistline of his jeans and he pulls back so he can look in Charles eyes, questioning.

"It's okay," Charles tells him, and Erik smiles.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he mumbles, using his mutation to undo the zipper of his jeans, chuckling when Charles groans, almost shaking with arousal.

Charles leans up and in for another kiss while Erik slips his hands into the open fabric of his formfitting jeans, stroking idly against the covered hardness of Charles' cock, smiling into their kiss when Charles' body bucks up into him.

"Fuck," Charles mutters, his muffled moans filling the cramped car as Erik palms his prick. It's ridiculous, he thinks, because this isn't the first time he's done this with someone yet his body feels like it's on fire, like it's going to explode if Erik keeps touching him like _that_.

He buries his face into the crook of Erik's shoulder when the other boy slips his hand under the waist band of his underwear, long fingers gripping his cock and pulling. His movements are tentative at first, but they grow more confident as Charles continues to moan and mouth against his bare shoulder, hands making their wait to the fly of Erik's pants.

"Wait."

"What?" Charles asks, head tilting to look up at Erik.

"Let me get you off first," Erik mumbles, his spare hand moving to cup Charles' ass. "It's too difficult to move."

"Okay," he replies, voice embarrassingly breathy as his back arches into Erik's touches.

It doesn't take long before Charles is withering under Erik's body, small gasps and moans filling the car as Erik continues the expert movement of his hand.

"Come for me, Charles," he whispers, voice sounding rough with arousal.

Charles thrusts up into him one more time before his mouth opens in a silent cry and he comes, fingers grasping at Erik as he breaths heavy, body damp with sweat. Erik grins down at him, almost predatory as he brings his hand to his mouth to lick it clean, chuckling as Charles whimpers quietly.

Once his breathing calms down, Charles reaches for the opening of Erik's pants again, sitting up as much as he can to leave kisses against the damp skin of his throat and chest.

"You don't have to," Erik murmurs, but Charles hears the whine that leaves his mouth as he pushes against the obvious erection, feels the pure arousal radiating off of the other boy's mind.

The positioning's all wrong, but Charles fumbles with the button and zipper anyway, undoing them as quickly as he can and pushing the black jeans down mid-thigh, along with the underwear, so he can get a hold of Erik, satisfied to hear the quiet mantra of pleased sounds as Erik rocks up into the pressure of his hand. He stares for a minute before he starts moving his hand, not expecting Erik to be quite so _big_. They kiss again, Charles working his hand as much as he can at the odd angle, his fingers squeezing as Erik thrusts against him.

He trails kisses down the other boy's neck, stopping to suck on the prominent collarbone, knowing Erik will have a mark the next day. Erik groans, hands clutching onto his shoulders as Charles speeds the movement of his hand, paying special attention to the head of Erik's cock.

He presses sloppy kisses until his mouth is near Erik's ear, breath still coming in erratic puffs. "Let go," he encourages, voice low and sensual. The words are barely out of his mouth before Erik finally reaches his climax, letting out a long, hoarse groan as his come paints white stripes across his stomach and Charles' hand.

They stay like that for a while; wrapped around each other as both of them catch their breaths, coming down from the orgasm induced high. Eventually, though, the car starts to feel too claustrophobic and Erik can feel remnants of come drying on his skin in the most uncomfortable way.

"I don't want to ruin the mood," he murmurs, leaning back so Charles has more space to move. "But I'm one hundred percent sure that my mother is going to wait for me to get home, and if I walk in like this…"

Charles grins and point to a compartment in the front of the car, too lazy to move. "There are wet wipes in there."

Erik leans over and grabs them, cleaning himself up quickly and redoing his pants before taking another wipe and running it against Charles' skin, leaving a cool, prickling sensation. He smiles when the other boy giggles while attempting to fix his own clothing.

"I had no idea we'd end up doing this," Charles tells him, fingers quickly re-buttoning the shirt that never really came off. "Though I'm incredibly glad we did."

"Me too," Erik replies, bent slightly while he grabs his own shirt and jacket from the car's floor. "Better than arguing."

"Mm, definitely."

"Although," Erik says, voice muffled as he pulls his shirt on. "Imagine the angry sex."

Charles laughs again, sitting up properly. "Something tells me I won't have to imagine it for too long."

Erik shrugs, "I'm up for it if you are."

"Believe me, darling, as long as you're willing, there's no way that _that_ is only happening once."

 **xxx**

Erik sighs as he pulls the car into his driveway, head turning against the leather seat to look at Charles, a smile on his face. "Can't believe we actually ended up having fun."

"I know," Charles beams back at him. "Who would've thought."

Erik hums, eyes trailing to look at the front window of his house, noticing the light on in the living room. "I should probably get inside," he mumbles, undoing the seatbelt.

Charles nods and does the same, exiting the car the same time Erik does. They come face to face at the front of the car, Erik's right arm wrapping around Charles' waist.

"You gonna kiss me goodnight, Lehnsherr?" the telepath teases, wrapping his arms around Erik's neck and smiling when the taller boy leans down to gently press their lips together.

"Good enough for you?" he whispers, pressing his forehead against Charles'.

"Mm, one more."

Erik huffs a laugh and kisses him again, thumb rubbing a pattern in the small of Charles' back. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

"And," Erik says, placing one last kiss to Charles' forehead. "Tonight wasn't too horrible, so don't flunk the debate. I want to win fairly."

"You're not going to win, darling. The title's mine."

"Keep dreaming, Xavier," he teases, pulling away and taking a few steps towards his front door. "I'm gonna kick your ass."

 _Hopefully that's not the only thing you do to my ass_ , Charles projects, laughing when Erik shoots him a playful glare.

 _Don't tempt me._

 _Wouldn't dream of it._

 _Uh-huh._

 _Goodnight, Erik._

 _Get home safe, pretty boy._

 **xxx**

Erik walks through the front door and straight into his mother's knowing gaze. "I take it I'll be seeing a lot more of dear Charles?" she asks, patting the spare spot on the couch.

Despite his best attempts, he can't wipe the blush and giddy smile from his face as he moves to sit next to Edie, her arm automatically wrapping around his shoulders as he leans into her. "Maybe," Erik answers, his voice barely above a whisper. "What'd you think of him?"

Edie rakes her thin fingers through his short hair and grins when she looks at him, "If he makes you smile like _that_ , liebling, I think we'll get along just fine."

"Ich hab dich lieb, Mama," he mumbles, scrunching his face up as Edie plants a kiss to his forehead.

"And I you, sweet boy."


End file.
